


In the Woods

by LadyWallace



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Field Surgery, Friendship, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Hutch, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Starsky, bamf!Hutch, gen - Freeform, kinda temporary death?, season 3 setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23151601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: While rescuing kidnapped hikers in the woods, Hutch takes a bullet. Starsky is torn between his duty to get the victims to safety and his vow not to leave his partner—until an unexpected enemy makes the decision for him…
Relationships: Ken Hutchinson & David Starsky
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've kind of been on a Starsky and Hutch kick lately XD I'm really enjoying writing for this fandom.
> 
> I borrowed the plot for this story a little from the Supernatural episode "Red Meat"

The cabin was innocuous. Just one of the ones you rented when you wanted to take a weekend fishing up in the woods. Starsky was not entirely fond of those kinds of vacations, especially considering how the last one he and Hutch had tried to take had gone, and their current case had just solidified that opinion for him.

"This looks like it," Hutch murmured as they viewed the cabin from the safety of the trees.

They'd been hunting a drug ring for over two weeks now, and finally got a tip that they kept their supply of the stuff for distribution in a cabin up in the woods. After two hikers had gone missing in the same area, their suspicions had only been confirmed and Starsky and Hutch had gone up to make the arrest.

Only problem was their backup would take way too long to get there, and their car, including their radio was parked a few miles back at the end of the trail, no other way to get up to the cabin but walking.

"Are we doing this?" Starsky asked, pulling out his gun and checking the clip.

Hutch's lips pressed into a thin line, contemplating. "We know where they are now. We should go back to the car and call in backup. We don't know how many are in there."

As soon as he said that, a woman's scream came from the cabin, and the two detectives looked at each other.

"The hikers," Hutch said.

"Well, there's our answer," Starsky said as he cocked his gun and the two hurried out of the woods. "You take the back."

Hutch nodded and split off to run around the cabin to hit it from behind. Starsky crept up onto the porch, and paused with his back against the doorjamb before he raised his gun and spun to kick the door in.

He only had a second to process the scene. Two men, both with knives in their hands, were looming over a couple who had been tied up, hands bound abobe their heads and feet barely touching the floor. One of the drug dealers was moving to cut the woman down, and the man was struggling frantically, pleading with him as the woman sobbed.

"Hey! Police!" Starsky shouted.

The men turned around in an instant, and launched themselves at Starsky. He was so surprised by the sudden move, since bad guys usually ran instead of charged you, that he let himself be thrown to the ground, hitting his elbow as his gun flew from his hand.

Hutch was in the fray now, grabbing the second goon by the back of the coat and flinging him away, but not before he had his own gun kicked from his hand.

Starsky stopped the man's knife from stabbing him in the throat and, rolled, getting the man under him but only for a second. The man was bigger and stronger and he got his foot up and into Starsky's stomach, kicking him back to where he crashed into a table, the piece of furniture splintering upon impact.

Winded, he lay dazed as the man grabbed him by the front of his coat and flung him against the wall. Starsky went down again and a heavy steel-toed boot slammed into his side. He cried out, feeling at least one rib crack, but the pain got him out of his daze and he kicked out the next time the goon raised his foot and knocked his feet from under him.

The man fell to the ground, but scrambled away, reaching for a gun that was sitting to one side. Starsky grabbed him by the back of his shirt and hauled him back just as the man's fingers wrapped around the gun.

"Drop it!" Starsky demanded, diving for his own gun and coming up with it pointed at the man.

The man smirked, and turned the weapon on the two prisoners.

Starsky squeezed the trigger and hit the man in the chest. His eyes blew wide and he collapsed backwards.

Starsky rushed forward, kicking the gun away from the man, as a second shot rang out.

He turned swiftly and froze. Instead of seeing Hutch holding his gun up, he saw his partner with empty hands, staggering slowly backwards as blood blossomed on his shirt. The other goon knelt on the floor, holding Hutch's own gun up.

"Hutch!" Starsky screamed and unloaded a quick double tap into the goon before he could shoot again. He was then across the room in a second just as Hutch collapsed completely. Hutch crashed to his knees and began to tip to one side, but Starsky grabbed his shoulders, lowering him more gently onto his back.

"Hey, hey," Starsky said, practically pleading with his partner to be okay.

Hutch clutched at his stomach where the blood was seeping, jaw clenched as a groan escaped from between his gritted teeth. The initial shock of the wound was quickly wearing off and the pain was setting in.

"Let me see it, huh?" Starsky murmured, gripping Hutch's wrist, swallowing down his terror at the sight of all the blood. His partner's blood. Oh god…

"Hey!"

The male hiker called out behind them and Starsky spun around, eyes flashing.

"Give me a minute, will ya?" he snapped.

"A minute? We've been here two days! My wife is hurt!" the man challenged. "You're cops, right?"

Starsky saw red. "You blind? I've got a partner with a bullet in 'im! Give me a second!"

"St-Starsk," Hutch gritted out, gripping Starsky's wrist. "Go get them down. I got this for a second."

Starsky clenched his jaw, but he knew Hutch was right. They had to slow the bleeding before anything. He swiftly yanked his leather jacket off, then his over shirt, which he folded to press against Hutch's wound, taking his partner's hand and pressing it firmly over the makeshift pad. "Hold that, okay? I'll get you taken care of in a tick."

Hutch nodded jerkily, trying to force a wavering smile. Starsky patted his cheek then hurried over to the hikers, pulling out a knife and swiftly cutting them down. The woman practically collapsed in his arms, sobbing and clutching his shirt.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Starsky gently handed her over to her husband and led them both over to the couch to sit down. "I'll get you help in a minute okay? We'll call an ambulance to meet us down at the end of the path."

"Wait," the man said before Starsky could go back to Hutch. "There's another man in that closet."

"What?" Starsky asked in surprise.

"Yeah, another prisoner. They dragged him in here when they came back to the cabin."

Starsky cursed under his breath and went over to the closet, shoving through the door. Sure enough, there was a man bound hand and foot, and gagged, propped in one corner of the room. Starsky swiftly knelt to cut his ropes.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked.

The man tore the gag from his mouth. "Yeah, now I am. Thanks."

"Okay, get out there with the others, we'll be leaving as soon as I take care of my partner."

"Wait, what?" the man demanded, suddenly grabbing Starsky's arm to hold him back.

The detective had to fight the urge to shove him off. He glowered at the man. "You got a problem or something?"

"Yeah I got a problem! This was a five-man operation. There's more guys out there and they're on their way with more stuff, probably now! We can't waste any time getting back!"

"Yeah, and my partner's not going anywhere with a bullet in his gut, so you can just wait a minute!" Starsky told him, turning his back and looking around the cabin for a first aid kit.

"Look, see if you can find a phone or radio, call in an ambulance," Starsky said to the man as he looked under the cupboard in the kitchenette and finally located a first aid kit. He sighed in relief and grabbed it, hurrying back to Hutch.

"How you doin', huh?" he asked his partner gently.

Hutch was pale and sweat was beading on his brow. He opened his eyes and snorted. "Terrific," he choked out.

"Well, I hate to say this, but we've gotta get that bullet out," Starsky said, opening the kit and seeing what it had to offer before he turned back to Hutch and saw with increasing worry how much blood had seeped through the shirt under Hutch's pale hand.

He carefully removed the blonde's hand and the pad and unzipped Hutch's jacket before he pushed up his shirt, finally revealing the bullet hole.

"Will you look at that," he said with a desperate grin. "It's just a little one. Way you were going on thought it would be the size of a baseball."

Hutch huffed, but his body clenched through a spasm of pain, eyes tightly shut, muscles taut. Starsky gripped his shoulder and knee, keeping him still, swallowing hard as he tried to hold back his worry. "Hold on, buddy. Just hold on, okay?"

"Hey, there's no phone in here!" the man said desperately as he came up to Starsky.

"No radio or anything?" Starsky asked, hardly glancing up.

"No! We've gotta get out of here!"

"Hey! Calm down," Starsky snapped at him.

The hiker spoke up from the couch where he was holding his wife. "Th-there's a ranger station about a mile and a half down. They should have a radio there."

"Great, let's go," the man said, already halfway out the door.

Desperate, and without another option, Starsky grabbed his gun and pointed it at the man. "Hey, you're not going anywhere! We leave this cabin together or not at all, understand?"

"What part of drug dealers with guns coming here do _you_ not understand?" the man demanded.

"Hey, I get it, but we're a team now, and we don't leave anyone behind. Got that?" Starsky demanded, then softened, trying to remember he was dealing with victims here and it wasn't their fault. Not their fault that Hutch had been shot. "What's your name?" he amended.

The man shifted before replying. "Carl."

"Okay, Carl. I'm Starsky. Now sit down in that chair and wait until I get this bullet out of my partner, okay?"

The man still glowered at him, looking between Starsky and the two hikers before he sat in one of the chairs from the table that hadn't been turned over or destroyed in the fight.

Starsky turned back to Hutch now.

"Hey," he said gently, leaning over his partner to try and get his attention while he fumbled with the clip from his gun. "You ready?"

Hutch grunted. "No."

"Good," Starsky smiled. "If the pain gets too bad, just bite the bullet, huh?"

Hutch breathed out with a shaky chuckle. "I might just take you up on that this time."

Starsky forced a smile and patted the other man on the cheek before slipping a bullet between his teeth. Hutch gratefully bit down.

"This other one we'll save for fond memories—you can make a necklace out of it. What d'ya say?" Starsky asked as he turned back to the med kit, grabbing a pair of forceps.

"Hey, anyone got a lighter?"

The male hiker glanced at the wreckage from the overturned table and kicked one across the floor to Starsky.

"Thanks," he muttered darkly, flicking it several times before it lit and waved the forceps through the flame. "Hey, what are your names?" he asked as he worked.

The hiker swallowed hard. "I'm Peter, this is my wife, Carol."

"Alright, well, I'm Dave Starsky and this is Ken Hutchinson, but you've caught him on one of his worse days. We'll get you out of here, I promise."

Carl snorted under his breath again, but Starsky ignored him, instead turning back to Hutch and putting the wadded up shirt aside again.

"You know what you're doing?" Hutch grunted around the bullet between his teeth.

"Oh, y'know, I picked up a few things from my time in the army," Starsky said as blithely as possible.

"Great," Hutch muttered, letting his head fall back against the floor.

"Just hold on, huh? I'll try to be quick about it," Starsky said softly as he grabbed a swatch of gauze and wiped some of the blood away from the wound so he could see, causing Hutch to shudder and his muscles to tense at the pain. Hopefully the bullet hadn't gone too deep.

"Okay, this is probably gonna hurt. A lot," Starsky warned.

"You need to work on your bedside manner, nurse," Hutch growled then tensed as Starsky wasted no more time slipping the forceps into the wound. His hand lashed out and latched onto Starsky's belt, gripping tightly.

"Easy, easy," Starsky muttered, trying to remind himself to breathe. He pressed his free hand against Hutch's shoulder, holding him still, but his partner's heels still dug into the ground, and a horrible groan escaped his throat. Starsky wondered wryly if he'd simply bite _through_ the bullet.

"Come on, come on," he muttered as he delicately probed the wound, and finally felt the clink of metal against the forceps. Saying a swift prayer, he latched onto the bullet, thankfully not too deep, and pulled it out.

Hutch cried out, and spit the bullet to one side before collapsing limply against the floor.

Starsky tossed the forceps down onto some gauze and grabbed some more to press against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. "There we go, all done! That wasn't so bad, huh?"

"Speak…for…yourself," Hutch gasped.

Starsky rubbed his chest gently to try and calm him, before adding more gauze and taping it down.

"Are we ready yet?" Carl demanded.

Starsky spun around, instantly regretting it as his injured ribs twinged. "Hey, cool it, would ya? My partner can't move, we gotta figure this out."

"And in the meantime those other drug dealers will be coming back!" Carl said.

Peter nodded. "I agree with him. We need to get out of here. My wife needs a hospital and so does your partner."

A grunt and sounds of movement had Starsky turning back around to see Hutch sitting up, one hand pressed to his stomach, as he fought to get his knees under him.

Starsky grabbed his shoulder. "Hey, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm good," Hutch said in a very unconvincing way, sweat breaking out on his face.

"Yeah, you're terrific," Starsky muttered.

"Still look better than you," Hutch snorted fondly. "Let's go."

Starsky cursed and grabbed his jacket, tugging it back on before he helped his idiot partner to his feet. Hutch could barely stand and panted for a long moment before he leaned heavily on Starsky's shoulders and took a shaky step forward. Starsky's injured ribs were already protesting the weight, but he wasn't about to let on.

"I guess we're going," Starsky muttered, rolling his eyes.

Carl was already out the door and Peter was helping his wife up. She was a bit wobbly but was doing better than Hutch.

It was already getting dark, and that didn't bode well for their chances of finding the ranger station, but it seemed like both Carl and Peter apparently knew where it was.

Starsky hated taking up the rear, but Hutch was setting such a slow pace and Peter and Carl seemed to know where they were going so he supposed he would let them lead the way. He had other things to worry about at the moment.

Hutch continued to get heavier and heavier against him and Starsky cast worried glances toward him, trying to offer as much support as possible.

And then finally Hutch faltered and Starsky stopped, grabbing hold of his partner's arm as Hutch doubled over with a bitten-off moan, fighting to stay upright, his legs quivering.

"Hutch. Hey, come on buddy," Starsky nearly pleaded, gripping his arm tight, his other hand bracing the blonde's chest.

Hutch huffed a few breaths through his nose before he attempted to straighten again, hand pressed to his stomach. "I'm good. I'm good." Then a wry smirk. "Dammit, Starsky, I told you that greasy diner food was a bad idea." He snorted a laugh, which ended in a choking sound.

Starsky's hand found Hutch's back and rubbed soothingly. "Hey, that food was terrific. Don't blame it. But I'll let you choose the next place once we get out of here, 'kay?"

"Anything I want?" Hutch asked weakly, bravely attempting to play along.

"Anything," Starsky promised.

"Would you two come on?" Carl cried, already several yards ahead.

"Please, my wife," Peter added, practically holding the woman upright as she sagged further.

"Alright, alright," Starsky growled.

"Hey," Hutch squeezed his arm. "Easy on them. They're scared."

Starsky shook his head, but didn't reply. He was pretty damn scared himself. He simply wrapped Hutch's arm around his shoulders again, and secured his arm around Hutch's waist, steering him forward and if Hutch leaned a little more heavily against him, Starsky pretended not to notice.

Thankfully, they saw the ranger station before too long. Carl ran ahead and kicked in the door. Peter followed with Carol. Starsky was a little slower, getting Hutch up the steps.

"Okay, one at a time," he murmured encouragingly. "You can do it."

Hutch let out a groan as he forced his leg up and somehow found the strength to push himself onto the next step, while gripping Starsky's jacket tightly. Starsky grit his own teeth as the pressure wreaked havoc on his ribs, but Hutch didn't know about his injury, being a little preoccupied, so he would forgive the man this time.

"Hey, we found a radio!" Peter called out to them.

"Terrific," Starsky sighed in relief as they made it inside the dark building. "Let's find some lights now."

He propped Hutch against the large front desk, and looked around before finding two lanterns that thankfully still had some oil in them.

"Matches," he called, discovering a box on the table and lighting the two lanterns, taking one over to where Carl was working on the radio.

"Dammit," the man growled. "The signal's bad up here."

"Let me try," Starsky said, fiddling with the dial until the crackling turned into something more intelligible. "Hello? Hello?"

A voice replied through the static on the other end and Starsky pressed the radio receiver against his forehead in relief. "Thank God. This is Detective Sergeant David Starsky, I need an ambulance at the River Park trailhead."

"Sir, speak…breaking…p"

"I need an ambulance at River Park trailhead!" Starsky shouted.

"An ambulance?...Park…head?"

"Yes!" Starsky really hoped his message was getting through.

"Ten-four that's…" The static took over again and the signal was lost.

Starsky slammed the receiver down in frustration. "Well, let's hope enough of that got through to help."

Carl had been pacing the entire time, biting his nails. Starsky shook his head and turned toward Peter and Carol, crouching down beside the chair Peter and installed his wife in.

"How is she doing?" Starsky asked.

Peter gave him a tight-lipped look. "She's not doing well. Neither of us have eaten or drunk anything for over a day."

Kicking himself for not thinking of that earlier, Starsky looked around until he found some jugs of water and protein bars, handing them out. He went over to Hutch last with some water. The blond detective was hunched over, using the counter to prop himself up, but refused to sit down.

"Thirsty?" he asked quietly.

Hutch was still horribly pale and sweating and Starsky wondered if he might be going into shock. But he shook his head at the offer of water. "Not right now. Don't know if it will stay down."

Starsky felt sick himself at that thought. He didn't like not knowing just how much damage that bullet had done inside. It hadn't been stuck in too deep, but a gutshot was never good and could cause all kinds of internal damage.

He reached out and squeezed his partner's shoulder. "Come on, why doncha sit down?"

Hutch shook his head, even as his face creased from a spasm of pain. "Nah. Won't be able to get back up again." He looked up and glowered at Carl who still hadn't stopped pacing. "Hey, can you sit down?" he demanded.

Carl spun around toward them. "We need to keep moving! If we're not at the trailhead by the time the ambulance gets there, we may miss them all together! It's another two miles."

"In a minute!" Starsky said.

"No way, those thugs are still out there too, we need to go now!" Carl demanded, then added more quietly, "Those of us who can, anyway."

Starsky was on him in a second, ignoring Hutch's warning as he grabbed Carl by the front of his shirt. "What did you say?"

"Look, the lady's sick but she can still walk," Carl said, then jabbed a finger at Hutch. "He's slowing us down, and I'm not gonna get caught just because some cop took a bullet."

"Hey, we saved your lousy hide," Starsky snapped, shaking him. "I told you before, we go together or not at all!"

"Then I guess we all die!" Carl snapped.

Carol whimpered and Starsky glanced over to see Peter looking torn.

"Starsk," Hutch grunted and Starsky turned to his partner, trying to swallow his desperation. "Look, he's right."

"Are you kidding me right now?" Starsky demanded, releasing the punk and turning back toward the injured detective.

Hutch cringed, folding over farther, propping himself up against the desk with his forearms. "Come on, Starsky, you know what he's saying is true, I'll slow you down. I'm not gonna make it two more miles. Get them out of here, you'll be quicker without me. You can come back as soon as you get them to the ambulance."

"You're the one I called it for, you dummy!" Starsky snapped. "And if you think I'm leaving you here when there's still drug dealers out there, you're even stupider than I took you for. No." He turned back to Carl and Peter, jabbing his finger at them. "I'm gonna make a litter and we are going to carry him out together. Got that?"

Carl and Peter were both silent, but Carl's eyes bore into Starsky's, anger obvious in the clench of his jaw.

Starsky ignored him and went over to Hutch, squeezing his shoulder and leaning in close so only he could hear. "I'm not gonna leave you, blondie, so you can forget it. You hear me?"

Hutch huffed, sagging even further, but nodded. "Yeah, fine."

Starsky squeezed the back of his neck gently in reassurance before he went to retrieve the axe he had seen under the desk and hurried outside into the night.

The moon was full, at least giving him something to see by and Starsky cast around for the right kind of branches. He found two long, straight ones just on the ground and started hacking several more off nearby trees to make the litter stable.

His broken ribs ached until he could barely breathe, but he welcomed the pain, working out his anger and his terror with the axe.

Why did going into the woods always turn out so bad for them? At least they didn't have a Satanic cult to deal with this time. But it hadn't been long enough ago that he had almost lost Hutch to the plague, and now he'd gotten his partner shot in the middle of nowhere and they still had no idea whether help was even coming or not.

He furiously hacked at the current branch until he realized he'd cut halfway through the small tree. He gasped for breath, doubling over with his hands on his knees as he gulped in air, trying to calm himself, feeling like someone was stabbing him in the side. He couldn't lose it now. Hutch was counting on him as were those ungrateful civilians in there.

He swallowed and blinked back the wetness in his eyes before he went back to work with more precision and less rage-filled violence.

All he wanted right now was to get his partner out of these woods alive.

_~~~~~~~_

_Hutch tried to take_ deep breaths to keep himself steady, but the pain radiating from his middle was getting worse and worse by the second and he could no longer find the strength to stand. He finally sunk down behind the counter, jarring his wound as his legs collapsed at the last minute, barely biting back a whimper. He pressed both hands to his stomach, feeling the blood seeping through the bandages, slicking his hands. He took a shuddering breath.

Carl was still pacing and chewing his nails. Hutch figured him for an addict, but there was something oddly familiar about him and he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just the blood loss talking.

Speaking of, if those other drug dealers did catch up to them, he wasn't going to be much good in a fight, and that left Starsky with four people to protect and really no way to move quickly.

"Guys," he gasped out, craning his head around the side of the desk to look at the others. "Hey. Go find Starsky. Convince him to go. He's right, you need to get out of here."

Carl spun around. "Yeah, we would, except he's not gonna listen."

"I'll try," Peter said, standing up.

Carl grabbed his arm to stop him and hissed, "You heard him—he's not gonna leave without his partner." His voice hushed even more. "So… we gotta make sure he has no choice."

"What are you talking about?" Peter hissed back, yanking his arm out of Carl's grasp.

Hutch was barely paying attention to the conversation, or at least it wasn't registering. He was too busy concentrating on trying to stay conscious, which was becoming more and more of a task. Before he knew it, Carl was standing over him, face stony.

"You gotta go," Hutch murmured.

Carl crouched in front of him. "He's not gonna leave you. And he's not gonna let us leave without him. So…it's nothing personal. Just…thinking of the good of the many."

Before Hutch could make sense of what the man was saying, Carl's hands were around his throat, shoving him to the floor. Hutch flailed, scrabbling at Carl's hands, but he was so weak and the man snarled, shoving his hand over Hutch's nose and mouth so he was chocking and smothering him at the same time.

Hutch struggled weakly, but Carl jammed a knee into his side, jarring his wound, sending agony exploding through his body. Hutch was weakening by the second. He tried to call for Starsky, scrabbling for his gun to try and get a shot off, but Carl knelt on his hand, keeping him pinned.

Hutch felt himself fading fast and there was nothing he could do about it. He only managed one pitifully muffled whimper, before the world faded away and he knew nothing more.


	2. Chapter 2

Starsky finally collected enough branches to be able to tie into a decent litter for his haphazard partner. The physical exertion, despite the probable damage it had done to his already injured ribs had helped him work out some of his anxiety. He needed to be strong for Hutch and the lost hikers, after all, and it would hardly do for him to lose his cool.

He backed into the door with the branches over his shoulder, and called out, "Hey, we got any ropes or something we can use to tie these together?"

He turned around to start setting the branches out on the floor when he noticed two things: First, that all the hikers were standing up, in a semi-circle behind the front counter, looking pale, and second, they were standing around Hutch who was lying on the ground, completely still.

Starsky froze, knowing instantly that something was wrong. "What's going on?" he demanded coldly.

Carol took a shuddering breath that sounded like a sob. "H-he…he just…"

Starsky ignored her and started forward. "Hutch?"

He dropped the limbs he had been holding and rushed the last few steps to his partner, collapsing to his knees next to the still figure.

He took Hutch's face between his hands and patted his cheeks, but got no response besides the blonde's head lolling to one side.

"Hutch?" Starsky called again, more frantically as he slid his hand down to Hutch's throat and felt for a pulse, a breath, _anything._ "Hutch, oh god…What happened?" He looked frantically up at the three hikers. The girl looked away, burying her face in her husband's shoulder. "What happened?!" Starsky demanded, hands clutching in Hutch's jacket, still trying to rouse him.

Carl stepped forward, his face calmer than Peter or Carol's, neither of whom would meet Starsky's eyes. "I don't know. He just…went. I guess he'd lost too much blood or something."

Starsky was reeling, trying to make sense of any of this. Had he missed something? Had Hutch been bleeding internally or something? He had been as bad off as expected, being shot, but he hadn't shown extreme signs of shock or anything. How could he just…

"Look, I'm sorry," Carl said, his voice emotionless. "But we need to go."

Starsky didn't look up; his eyes were still glued to Hutch's face. God, Hutch…

"Please," Peter spoke up finally, his voice shaking. "I—I really am sorry about your partner, but those drug dealers are probably back by now and they could be out looking for us."

Starsky wanted to tell them all to get lost, but he had a duty, and Hutch wouldn't want him to get these people killed just because he wanted to sit around and mope.

He drew a deep, steadying breath and looked up. "Fine, let's go." He couldn't quite keep the poison from his voice, but at the moment, he couldn't manage much better.

Carl was already almost out the door, while Starsky turned back to his partner and cupped the side of his neck. "I'll be back for you, huh?" he said softly. "I'll be back."

Then with herculean effort, he climbed to his feet, allowing the numbness that was currently enfolding him because of his shock at the situation to keep him going, pushing everything else down. He was probably going to pay for it later when reality hit, and it was going to hit hard. But right now, his job was to get these people out of the woods. And until then, if he kept thinking on the track his mind was currently going, he might just lie down next to his partner and give up and that would do no one any good.

It was even darker now. Night had fully set in and the path was dangerous. Carl took the lead and Starsky brought up the rear, keeping an eye on all of them. He probably normally would have noticed how Carl was getting more and more anxious as they went along, but all he could think about was leaving Hutch in that cabin when he had promised he wasn't going to go anywhere without him.

_Not that it matters now,_ his mind supplied nastily. _He can't care much now, can he?_

Starsky's hand clenched into a fist and he fought against a tight pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his battered ribs. He couldn't allow himself to think of Hutch anymore. Not right now.

Carol cried out and tripped, Peter barely catching her. Starsky swallowed hard and hurried toward them, getting in to prop up her other side.

"Come on, not much farther," he murmured.

She took a shaky breath. "Detective Starsky…I'm sorry about your partner. I…"

"Shh," Peter hushed her a little too sharply. Starsky was too distraught to notice Carl glancing back over his shoulder at them.

Finally, they got to the trailhead and Starsky breathed a sigh of relief, heading over to the Torino so he could try and call back to the station.

Just at that moment however, the sound of sirens filled the air and Starsky glanced down the road to see an ambulance arriving.

"Thank God," Peter sighed, relieved as he waved his hands in the air.

The ambulance pulled up on the side of the road and the EMTs piled out as Peter ushered his wife toward them.

"Are you all good now?" Starsky asked them and Peter nodded. "I'm gonna stay here with the car to call this in and then…well, I'll be at the hospital later to take your statements."

Peter nodded and Starsky was about to head back into the woods, his only thought getting Hutch back, when an EMT stopped him by grabbing his arm.

"Hey, where are you going?" the man demanded.

"Get off me," Starsky snapped.

The man only held on tighter. "Not until I figure out what's going on here."

"Look, I've gotta get back to my partner," Starsky pleaded, already pulling out of the man's grasp. "I had ta…had ta leave him, so I just gotta go back."

"Look, you're not going anywhere until we get a statement," the EMT said sternly. "All we know is that someone called for an ambulance. We have no idea if you're the kidnapper or not, so there's no way we're letting you go until the police arrive."

"Look, I am a cop!" Starsky shouted, feeling his lungs constricting with anxiety and pain and a thousand other emotions. He was breathing heavily, his broken ribs pressing hard against his lungs. "I'll get there when I get there!" He riffled through his jacket for his badge but couldn't find it. "Look, I think I lost my badge in the fight, but you can call my captain, his name is Dobey—Ninth Precinct. Now I gotta go!"

"Sir, I can't let you go! We gotta figure out what happened here!" the EMT insisted. "Now we gotta get these people to the hospital, so can you get in?"

Starsky moved without another thought and clocked the EMT in the jaw. The man spun around, catching himself on the side of the ambulance. Starsky was already hurrying at a fast clip back into the woods when the other EMT tackled him, and he was brought to the ground, jarring his ribs painfully. Starsky cried out at the sudden pain, but still struggled.

"Let go of me!" he cried, desperation overwhelming any common sense now. "I've gotta get to my partner!"

"Here, sedate him before he hurts himself."

Starsky whipped around in time to see the EMT he'd punched carrying a syringe over. Panic set in, causing all reason to fly. Panic and the loss of Hutch. He thrashed, struggling despite the pain in his ribs, but the EMT was bigger than him and pressed him against the ground as they jabbed him with the needle. Starsky felt the effects immediately, shifting groggily as the man got off of him.

"Hutch," he slurred as he was dragged upright, and that was the last thing he remembered.

_~~~~~~~_

_Starsky woke slowly_ , not fully aware at first what was going on. His head felt fuzzy, which was not a comfortable feeling. It reminded him too much of his time undercover at the mental asylum—not a pleasant memory. He briefly wondered if he was still back there, but he could have sworn they had finished that case.

"Huu'ch," he slurred out, sure his partner must be close by…

Memory slammed into him like a semi-truck. Hutch being shot, pulling the bullet out, walking through the woods, making a litter, before going back to the cabin and finding Hutch on the floor, not breathing, no sign of life.

Hutch.

Starsky shot upright, pain tearing through his chest, stopping him from moving for a second as his head swam from both the sudden agony and the drug. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a moment to figure out where he was.

Hospital, obviously, he realized. He was lying in a bed, still fully clothed, which was odd. What was even more odd was that he was handcuffed to the bedrail.

He stared at the cuff incredulously, and yanked at it. "Hey!" he called.

A nurse came in, seeing him awake before she called out for a doctor.

"Hey, get me out of this!" Starsky demanded.

"Please calm down, sir, the doctor hasn't finished treating you yet."

"So this is how you treat patients typically? Lock 'em up until you're done?" Starsky snapped, motioning to the cuffs.

The nurse seemed unfazed. "The EMTs who brought you in said you were hysterical, we thought it was best for the safety of everyone."

"Hysteri—I'm a cop!" Starsky said. "My badge got lost, but I can prove it to you if you let me make one phone call to my captain."

"You can talk to the doctor about that when he gets here," she said in a no-nonsense voice.

"Look, I don't even have to do it. I'll give you the number. Just ask for Captain Dobey. Please!"

A man Starsky took to be the doctor walked into the room then, and waved the nurse out, a frown on his face as he reached Starsky's bed. "I see you're still causing problems."

Starsky stared at him in indignation. "I'm not trying to cause problems, doc! I just want to get a few things straight! I gotta make a report to my captain, and I gotta…I gotta get my partner out of the woods." He swallowed hard, choking on the words, still unable to speak the truth about Hutch's condition. "Come on, just let me out of these cuffs." He rattled the cuff for good measure.

"You're not going anywhere," the doctor said. "You have two cracked ribs that need tending, and the men who brought you in said you attacked them. One of the men who came in with you confirmed that story. Until we figure out what's going on, you're not leaving that bed."

Starsky lay back in defeat as the doctor performed an examination, taking his pulse and lifting his shirt to prod his ribs. That was probably Carl who had so helpfully given his statement about Starsky's less admirable actions. He wondered if any of the hikers had said anything about the initial rescue and Hutch's shooting.

"You can't keep me here, at least not without letting me call my captain," Starsky told him firmly.

The doctor finished his examination, and turned to prepare some kind of medicine for the IV he had Starsky on, probably for the pain.

"Come on, just one phone call," Starsky pleaded, then more sternly. "This is obstruction of justice, you know."

But the doctor simply stared at him before injecting the new medicine into the IV.

"Perhaps I'll let you use the phone later, after you rest," he said and turned around to leave the room.

Starsky felt the medicine begin its numbing effects on his body and wished it could do the same thing to his soul. He still couldn't, wouldn't, allow himself to believe Hutch was really gone. He kept expecting to see him walk through the door to his room, a teasing expression hiding his true worry as he cracked some quip about Starsky being lazy for lying in bed when they should be working. It made no sense. None of it made any sense.

There was a soft knock on the door and Starsky looked up with surprise to see Carol standing there.

"Hi, um…can I come in?" she asked timidly.

"Sure," Starsky said, still surprised to see her there.

She didn't look much better than she had before, but there was gauze covering the garish abrasions on her wrists and a couple bandages on her forehead and she was wearing a clean robe. She sat gingerly in a chair she pulled over.

"You doing okay?" Starsky asked her.

She bit her lip. "I'm better now that we're here. Peter is sleeping, but I…I couldn't…" She looked away, and Starsky saw her lip trembling. "I really am sorry about your partner."

Starsky felt the words stab him but he swallowed hard and nodded.

Carol looked like she was going to say something, then shook her head, and said, "Did…did you need my statement?"

Starsky sighed, suddenly feeling very tired. "Not right now. My head's still a little fuzzy."

"That was awful what they did to you," she said. "I tried telling them you were a police officer but…"

Starsky suddenly had an epiphany. "Hey, can you do something for me?"

"Of course," she replied, a little startled.

"They won't let me use the phone, so can you call my precinct? Just ask for Captain Dobey and tell him what happened and where we are. He'll send men here to get your statements. And get me out of these damned cuffs." Starsky tugged again, angrily.

Carol nodded eagerly. "Yes, I can do that. There's a telephone right down the hall. Just let me have the number."

Starsky gave it to her. "Remember, ask for Dobey."

She nodded and pushed herself upright with some effort before leaving the room.

Starsky watched her go and went back to his attempts to get out of the cuffs.

Not that it mattered. Not much mattered at all to him right then, except the still form of his partner lying out there in the middle of nowhere waiting for him to make good on his promise and return.

_~~~~~~~_

_Carol made her way_ down the hall to the payphone and punched in the number for the police precinct.

When the secretary answered she said. "Um, yes, is Captain Dobey there? I need to speak with him."

There were a few nervous seconds while the phone connected and an impatient sounding voice answered. "Dobey."

"Hi, um, is this Captain Dobey?" she asked lamely, anxiety making her nervous.

"Yes, who is this?"

"M-my name's Carol Johnson, I was one of the kidnapped hikers. I'm calling on behalf of Detective Starsky."

That seemed to gain the captain's attention. "Starsky? Where is he? Why isn't he calling himself?"

"Th-there's been a mix up," she said. "He lost his badge in the woods, and…" She swallowed hard, her voice shaking. "We're at the hospital, but they have him restrained. And…and his partner was shot in the woods." She choked back a sob, still unable to get the sight out of her mind of the poor blond detective staggering through the woods, of that man Carl strangling the life out of him while Peter just stood there, not doing anything.

"Detective Hutchinson?" Dobey's voice snapped. "What happened?"

"It was terrible! The other man who was captured—"

She gasped as Carl suddenly appeared at her shoulder and snatched the phone from her hand, slamming it back into the cradle as he leaned in dangerously close.

"I really hope you weren't doing what I thought you were doing," he growled. "You had best go back to your room and forget what happened before I decide you're too much trouble too."

Carol was trembling with fear, but she hurried past Carl and practically ran back down to the hall to the room she and Peter had been given. She had no idea what to do now. She should tell Detective Starsky that she'd called his captain but if Carl found out…

Why was it that she didn't really feel like they had been rescued at all?

_~~~~~~~_

_Hutch gasped awake_ , lungs spasming so violently they nearly choked him. The act caused agony to tear through his middle and he rolled weakly onto his side, curling up and squeezing his eyes against the pain in both his abdomen and his throat.

"St-Starsk," he croaked, trying to breathe as slowly as possible, craving oxygen, his chest and lungs aching. After a few long moments, he felt a little more alive. Or at least as much as could be expected in his current state. He was just surprised that Starsky wasn't anywhere to be seen.

"Starsk," he croaked again, reaching up to rub his throat where that man had throttled him…

The man's face. He finally remembered where he had seen it before. Having it be the last thing he'd seen before he passed out had helped. He'd been one of the suspects attached to the drug ring—a runner if Hutch remembered correctly. He was surprised he and Starsky hadn't realized it before but he supposed that with him being shot, and finding the guy tied up in a closet that kind of messed with even their perception. But maybe Carl had tried to double cross the others or something and they had been planning on disposing of him along with the hikers.

Only question was: where were Starsky and the others now?

Hutch pushed himself up into a sitting position and that was a herculean effort. He leaned back against the desk he was lying behind, breathing heavily, arm curled around his stomach. The bullet wound was still bleeding sluggishly, but he wasn't sure what he could do about that right now.

"Hey…Starsky," he called again and finally found the strength to look around the desk, seeing what he had suspected all along.

There was no one in the cabin. Not Starsky, not the hikers, or Carl.

Hutch saw a pile of sticks by the door and vaguely remembered Starsky saying he was going to make a litter to carry him. A really bad feeling started in his gut that had nothing to do with the bullet wound. He knew Starsky wouldn't have left him here, despite his own urging. Not unless he was taken out of here by force or…

Unless he thought Hutch was dead.

That thought tore into Hutch's chest, knowing exactly how he would feel if he were in Starsky's place under those circumstances. The urge to get to his partner as soon as possible to reassure him that he was still alive was nearly smothering.

Either way, Starsky, and possibly those hikers, were in trouble, and he had to warn them about Carl, get word back to the precinct if Starsky hadn't already.

That meant getting up.

Hutch took a deep breath and began the act of raising himself up onto his knees.

Voices could be heard outside the cabin and he paused, listening harder past the pounding of his heart in his ears.

"—might be hiding in here," one of the voices said. "There's foot prints."

Hutch ducked back behind the desk, a small thrill of fear running through him. That wasn't Starsky or the others, it must be the rest of the drug ring. They'd probably finally made it back to the cabin and found their two dead comrades and their prisoners missing, planning to hunt them down before they could call the police.

Hutch was in trouble.

He did have his gun though, Starsky had made sure to tuck that back into his holster before they'd left the hideout, and if he could get the jump on them…

Heavy footsteps sounded on the steps leading up to the ranger station. There wasn't a lot of time. Hutch quickly grabbed for one or the large branches Starsky had cut for his litter and pulled it toward him with a wince, crouching in the shadows where the one lantern still burning didn't reach.

His gun was in his other hand, both trembling, probably from blood loss and the onset of shock, but he had no time to think about that right now.

The door rattled and two dark figures stepped into the cabin. Hutch could see the outlines of guns, held out.

"Doesn't look like anyone's here," one man said.

"They were," the other commented, picking up the lantern. "And probably not gone long."

They were getting close to the desk and Hutch knew he had to make a move now before they found him. He shifted, trying to get the stick into position and it clunked on the floor.

"What was that?" one of the men snapped as they both spun around, heading toward Hutch's hiding place.

Hutch wasted no time in lashing out with the branch, sweeping the first man's legs from under him. He cried out as he fell and Hutch lurched forward toward the open door.

Hands grabbed his coat from behind and he was yanked backwards and slammed to the ground.

Pain lanced through him and he gave a choked off cry, as the two men stood over him.

"Well, well, what have we here?" one demanded. "You're not one of our runaways."

"Police," Hutch gasped out, and somehow managed to whip his gun out, shooting the man in the leg.

The drug dealer cried out and collapsed. Hutch kicked the gun from his hand and snatched it, rolling over to point both at the second man.

"Don't," he said as the man looked like he was going to raise his gun.

The man clenched his jaw, but lowered the weapon.

"Kick it over," Hutch grunted.

The man dropped the gun and nudged it toward Hutch.

The blond detective fumbled one-handed for his cuffs, grabbing the hands of the man he'd shot who was groaning on the ground, and snapping one cuff around his wrist before motioning to the other man with his gun. "Get over here."

The man complied reluctantly, but seemed wary enough of the gun to ignore Hutch's condition. He sat down on the ground and Hutch snaked the cuffs through a radiator on one side of the room, before snapping the other cuff around the second man's wrist, effectively keeping them both secured.

"Now sit tight," he said before pushing himself to his feet slowly and with great effort. His bullet wound was bleeding again from the fall, and badly. He could feel the hot blood welling up under the makeshift bandage. He stowed all the guns and turned to the desk again, glancing under and finding a first aid kit. He tossed it to the man he hadn't shot.

"Here, take care of your buddy."

He glanced over at the radio they had used earlier to call an ambulance and lurched in that direction, turning it on. But it seemed like whatever signal they had gotten earlier, wasn't coming through now, and after a few minutes of endless turning dials, Hutch gave up with a curse, heading toward the door.

"Wait, you're just gonna leave us here?" The one man asked, pressing a patch of gauze to his buddy's leg. "He needs a hospital!"

"And he'll get one. Just plug the wound for now," Hutch said and bent carefully to grab one of the cut branches, using it as a walking stick to prop himself upright. Looks like it was coming in handy to get him out of the woods after all, though not in the way Starsky had intended.

He left the cabin, remembering someone saying something about a couple mile walk back to the trailhead. He hoped someone would be driving by this time of night that he could hitch a ride with, though he wasn't sure what sort of respectable person would let a man covered in blood into their car, even if he did show them his badge.

It was not easy going. Hutch had survived a few injuries on the job in his time, but he'd never been gutshot, and he didn't think he'd ever been in so much agony. Add to that his bruised throat, which was making breathing difficult and painful, and the general blood loss, he wasn't sure he could make it down to the trailhead, much less all the way to the hospital.

But he kept thinking of Starsky, of how his partner probably thought he was dead, and that gave him a little strength to keep going, knowing he had to put his best friend's mind at ease. And finally, it worked, because he found the trailhead without collapsing, though his wound was still bleeding badly enough to leave a small trail of blood behind him.

Worry began to gnaw at him again, though, when he saw the Torino parked where they had left it. Why would Starsky leave the car there? Unless he _had_ been taken by force after all. Hutch wondered if Carl hadn't forced Starsky and the hikers out of the woods. But then why wouldn't they have taken the car out of here? Maybe they had all just ridden in the ambulance. Whatever the case, Hutch was still determined to get to the nearest hospital, hopefully before Carl split, or got desperate enough to try and off Starsky like he'd tried to do to Hutch.

He pulled out his keys, and slid into the Torino, unable to help the gasp of pain. He sat for a long moment, eyes closed and head tipped back, before he switched the radio on and got a blessed signal.

"This is Zebra Three," he croaked. "Can anyone hear me?"

"Zebra Three, this is dispatch."

Hutch felt relief wash over him and he pressed the receiver to his forehead for a brief moment, saying a silent prayer. "Thank God, can you patch me into Captain Dobey, please?"

A brief moment before the connection went through and then Dobey's voice. "What do you want?"

"Captain, this is Hutch," Hutch breathed, relieved at hearing the angry voice.

"Hutchinson?" Dobey demanded, sounding shocked. "What the hell is going on? Some girl called me a few minutes ago saying you were dead, and Starsky's locked up in some hospital I didn't get the name of!"

Locked up? Hutch didn't have time to think of that right now though. "Look Captain, you have to get a message to Starsky, one of the kidnapped hikers we found wasn't a hiker, he was part of the drug ring, Carl something-or-other. He tried to kill me, and now Starsky and the hikers might be in danger too."

"Do you know where they are?"

"Probably at the hospital, we were able to call an ambulance from the ranger station I think. Which one is nearest River Park trailhead?"

"That would be Fairview," Dobey said. "Okay, we'll get over there as fast as we can. Where are you?"

"I'm still at the trailhead, but I'm heading to the hospital now," Hutch told him already starting the engine and pealing out down the road, his driving even more reckless than usual due to his pain and desperation.

"You be careful Hutchinson," Dobey said before the call cut out and Hutch was left in silence, just concentrating on getting to the hospital and hoping he wasn't already too late.

_~~~~~~~_

_Starsky drifted in a fuzzy_ state brought on by the pain medicine, but he knew when someone had entered his room.

He blinked his heavy eyelids, trying to make out who the figure standing over his bed was, half expecting to see blond hair and blue eyes, but the figure was too short and dark for his partner.

He was also too alive.

The pain hit Starsky all over again as he remembered the last time he'd seen Hutch, lifeless and pale on the floor of that cabin. He was so caught up in that thought that he didn't fully recognize who the figure in the room was until he saw him poking around at the cupboards to one side of the room where medical supplies and some medicine was kept.

"What're ya doin'?" Starsky slurred, frowning.

Carl turned around and Starsky began to get a bad feeling cutting through the fogginess of his brain as he saw a syringe in the man's hand.

"Sorry, Detective, but that girl made a mistake and now I'm gonna have to take you out like I did your partner."

"Hutch," Starsky murmured before the words fully set in, chasing away the rest of the fog, replaced by fury and pain. " _You_ killed Hutch!"

Carl shrugged. "I had to get out of there before my former coworkers showed up," he said. "And you wouldn't let me leave alone, so I did what I had to do. Like I'm doing now." He turned to the IV drip attached to Starsky's arm and injected whatever was in the needle and a whole lot of it into the tube.

Frantic, Starsky scrabbled at the needle stuck in his arm, and tore it out before the drug could reach him. "You want a double murder on your hands? One cop was enough to put you away for a really long time."

Carl chuckled. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere. I'm the victim here, aren't I?" He reached down and yanked the pillow from under Starsky's head. Starsky struggled, yanking against the cuffs that still kept him locked to the bed.

"Hey! Nurse!" he shouted before Carl slammed the pillow down on his face, muffling further protests or calls for help.

Starsky struggled, flailing with his free hand, but the drugs in his system had made him weak and Carl had the upper hand, forcing the pillow more firmly against Starsky's face.

He was suffocating, clawing at the pillow and Carl's hands more and more weakly before a hand snaked around his throat as well, adding to the problem. This was how he had killed Hutch too. His partner unable to fight back. And Starsky hadn't been there. No one had tried to stop him…

"Stop!"

The shriek startled both of them. Carl instantly let up the pressure and Starsky threw the pillow off, gasping for breath, seeing Carol standing there in the doorway, eyes wide with shock.

"Carol…" Starsky gasped out in warning before Carl launched himself toward her and snagged her.

"You've caused enough problems already," he snarled. "What do I have to do to you so that you'll keep your mouth shut?"

"Leave her alone," Starsky gasped, bringing a foot up to start kicking at the bed railing, trying to weaken it enough to free his cuff from it.

Carl smirked, grabbing another syringe from the nurse's station. "Oh, I'll leave her alone, as soon as she's quiet."

Carol screamed and after that everything seemed to happen at once. Starsky finally kicked at the bedrail and broke it so that he could slip the cuffs, ignoring the pain that lanced through his side as he dropped to the ground awkwardly. But at the same moment the door to the room crashed open and the last person Starsky expected burst through.

Hutch stood there, gun raised and covered in blood, white as a sheet, and Starsky could have sworn he saw Carl wet himself at the sight.

"Let her go," Hutch growled.

Carl dropped the syringe and Carol lurched out of his grasp as Hutch stepped forward and slammed the butt of his gun into the man's head. Carl dropped like a rock and lay still on the ground.

Hutch stared at him for a long moment before he turned his gaze to Starsky.

Starsky stared up from his crouched position, unable to say anything but a strangled, "Hutch?"

And then the blond detective swayed on his feet and started to collapse.

He made it to his knees before Starsky lurched forward to catch him, gripping his shoulders as Hutch slumped.

"Hey," Starsky said, cupping Hutch's face to pull his head up, meeting his partner's eyes with his own wet ones, emotion nearly choking him as he fought for words. "I thought you were dead."

Hutch exhaled heavily, reaching up with a limp hand to grip the back of Starsky's neck. "You know it would take a lot more than that to kill me, partner."

Then he sagged fully, and Starsky caught him and pulled him close. He glanced down and placed a careful hand over the site of Hutch's wound and felt the warm blood coat his hand instantly. Fear clutched at his throat again as he saw it was still bleeding. "We need a doctor in here!" he shouted.

Carol, who seemed to have gotten over her shock, hurried out the door, calling for someone.

"It's okay now, you big lug," Starsky said fondly to the limp form in his arms, not sure if Hutch could even hear him. He rubbed his partner's back soothingly. "You'll be fine. I'll make sure of it."

The doctor and nurses came in, and Starsky had to bite back his instinctive protests as Hutch was taken from his protective hold, but he knew Hutch would be okay.

They both would be now.

~~~~~~~~

" _Easy, just a couple_ more steps."

Hutch grunted and leaned more heavily on Starsky as the other man helped him up the steps to his apartment. He'd spent three days in the hospital before he had refused to stay another day. The bullet hadn't done any damage a few stitches and a couple pints of blood couldn't fix so he had decided that he would rather recover at home in his own bed.

But maybe, he decided as they finally got to his door, he would settle for the couch for now.

Starsky seemed to realize this before he even said anything and steered him toward the couch as soon as they got in the door. "Why don't you rest right here and I'll get you something to drink? What d'ya want?"

"Just water," Hutch said as he leaned back, closing his eyes as he fought to get his breath back, one hand wrapping protectively around his aching stomach.

He heard Starsky rummaging around in his kitchen, mumbling about going shopping, before he came back with a glass of water, and bent to take Hutch's shoes off, since he couldn't bend very well right now.

A blanket was wrapped around him before Hutch finally cracked his eyes open. "You done?"

Starsky looked slightly embarrassed, and straightened with a slight wince. His ribs were healing too. "You don't want my help, I don't have to give it. Thought you might be cold."

Hutch couldn't help a small smile. His partner was quite the mother hen, especially when he had gone through a scare, and Hutch couldn't blame him. He hadn't been much better after Starsky had been poisoned either, but even then, he hadn't thought his partner was dead. He'd just been afraid that he might lose him. He knew this had taken a toll on Starsky, and even though the case was wrapped up and the men brought to justice finally, Hutch knew there was still a few things that needed to be made clear between them.

"Starsk, wait a second," Hutch said and Starsky glanced over from where he was tidying up the coffee table.

"You need something?" Starsky asked attentively.

Hutch shook his head and motioned to the couch. "Come on, sit down. I know your ribs are killing you."

He'd been watching Starsky favor the side all day and he knew helping Hutch up to the apartment hadn't done them any good. Starsky took a seat gratefully, only adding to Hutch's suspicious.

"Are we gonna talk about this?" Hutch asked him.

"Talk about what?" Starsky asked innocently, not quite meeting his eyes.

Hutch fought the urge to sigh. "About the fact that you thought I was dead."

Starsky wet his lips, jaw tight, before he shook his head jerkily. "No." He made to stand up again, but Hutch reached out and grabbed his wrist.

"Starsky, come on. You can't just pretend it didn't happen."

"No, I can't," Starsky snapped, finally turning toward him. "Because every time I close my eyes, all I see is you lying there…"

The haunted look in his eyes caused an ache in Hutch's chest and he loosened his grip on Starsky's wrist so that he was just resting his hand on his friend's arm, an anchoring touch. "Starsky, I know how I'd feel in that position. That's why I want to make sure you're okay."

Starsky sighed heavily. "I am, I just…I think this is just gonna be one of those things that haunts me for a while, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," Hutch murmured. He remembered what it was like after Starsky had been taken by Simon Marcus too. How he would wake up for a couple weeks afterward having dreamed of finding Starsky strung up and hacked to pieces instead of alive. There'd been a lot of him sleeping on Starsky's couch that week, partly to help his partner through his trauma and partly for himself.

"I just wish I'd recognized Carl sooner," Starsky shook his head, running a hand over his face. "I just…I wasn't thinking right."

"We both should have recognized him," Hutch said tiredly. "But it's over now, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Starsky mumbled.

Hutch nudged him slightly before he took on a lighter tone. "You know, it wasn't very sporting or you to leave your dead partner to have to rescue you and the girl."

"That's not even funny," Starsky groaned.

Hutch smirked, goading. "It's a little funny."

Starsky stared at him out of the corner of his eyes. "Alright, it's a little funny. You're a hero."

Hutch's smirk widened and he leaned back again and closed his eyes, exhausted, but feeling better now that he'd gotten into Starsky's head a little.

He blinked again as he felt Starsky gripping his shoulder. "Hey, pain meds first. It'll help you sleep."

Hutch didn't even protest as Starsky brought the bottle of pills over and Hutch took the proscribed amount before he sank down more comfortably on the couch and Starsky readjusted the blanket around him.

"Wanna watch some tv?"

"Daytime television?" Hutch murmured.

Starsky grinned. "You love it and you know it." He flipped the tv set on and turned the volume low before he made to sit on the other side of the couch.

Hutch attempted to move his legs, but Starsky simply lifted his feet and placed them across his lap, seeming unbothered by his partner's sprawl. In fact, he rested one hand on Hutch's ankle and squeezed comfortingly, a reassurance for both of them.

And with that feeling of safety and care surrounding him, Hutch finally allowed himself to drift off, getting some much-needed rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys enjoyed this, follow me on Tumblr for writing updates and sneak peeks of upcoming stories :) https://lady-wallace.tumblr.com


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